


Owned By Hope

by kaleinope



Series: Neither Here Nor There [4]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Bottom Simon, M/M, Saphael, Top Raphael, simon worries about his future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleinope/pseuds/kaleinope
Summary: “What are you doing?”“Writing.”“An essay?”“My book,” Raphael said this as casually as one might say 'the groceries' or 'that sock I lost under the bed a month ago'. Simon felt his own eyes go wide.“And why is this the first time I'm hearing about it?” In which Simon realizes it's time to start thinking about his future.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The titles in this series are inspired by: 'Emma' by Imagine Dragons~  
> Enjoy!

Simon hated being in elevators with people.

Technically, that wasn't entirely true- _technically_ , he hated being stuck in an elevator with _one other person_. The social protocol for being in a confined space with a complete stranger had always been an alien concept to Simon, but on this particular day, with this particular woman staring at him like he'd personally wronged her, Simon felt like hitting every single button for all the floors- just to be a little shit.

 

Simon clenched his jaw and focused on his phone's screen, did his best to ignore her. Goddamn Raphael for living on the seventh floor, really. The elevator ride was taking forever, and it was doing _wonders_ for his terrible mood. It hadn't been the best of days. His test had gone horribly, his music theory TA had decided to be a bigger asshole than usual, and he'd spilt coffee all over his shirt- which, he realized, the woman was eye-balling warily. He supposed the Cthulu illustration on it was doing nothing to help his case- not that he cared about impressing this person, Jesus- and the woman edged a little further away from him. Simon gripped the strap of his messenger bag a little tighter and met her eyes with a level stare.

 

“Hail Satan,” he said, calmly, just before they (finally) reached the seventh floor.

The woman made a frightened 'meep' noise as Simon stepped out into the hallway. He tried not to feel _too_ happy about this.

 

He fumbled with his jacket pocket, wrestling out the duplicate key-card for Raphael's room, and let himself inside. After a quick few minutes in the bathroom, which involved washing his face rather vigorously, he made a beeline for the bedroom and announced himself with a really loud sigh.

Raphael was reclining on the bed, laptop propped on his legs. He looked so relaxed, the jerk. Simon felt a flash of irrational jealousy.

 

“What's wrong,” Raphael asked, with absolutely no inflection.

 

Simon shrugged out of his jacket and fell onto the bed, causing the mattress to shudder. “It was just one of those days, you know.”

 

“Do I?”

 

“Yeah,” Simon blinked at Raphael, who seemed way too absorbed by his laptop screen. “Hey,”

 

“Mm?”

“I'm thinking about getting your name tattooed on my ass,” Simon told him.

 

Not even a flicker in expression, “That's nice.”

 

“Maybe I'll pierce my dick while I'm at it.”

 

“Oh,”

 

“Also, I'm leaving you for my sugar-daddy. His name is Marco and he has a timeshare in the Bahamas.”

 

“Have fun.”

 

Simon groaned and let himself fall forward, face-planting in Raphael's lap with a _fwump-_ and hell if he didn't whine. “Pay attention to meeeee,”

 

Almost immediately, long fingers fell into Simon's hair, to scratch lightly at his nape.

 

“Happy now?” Raphael asked. Simon could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Kinda,” Simon huffed out. It was getting a little difficult to breathe with his face pressed into Raphael's jeans, so he turned his head to the side. With his cheek squished against his boyfriend's thigh, his words came out sounding a little muffled, “Don't stop. With the hair stroking thing.”

 

“Mm,” Raphael slid his fingers through Simon's fringe, “I'm sorry you had a long day.”

 

“It's okay. I feel better, now,” Simon squinted at Raphael's laptop screen; he'd left his glasses in the bathroom, so all he could see was a mostly white screen with a messy blur of small, dark typography. “What are you doing?”

 

“Writing.”

 

“An essay?”

 

“My book,” Raphael said this as casually as one might say 'the groceries' or 'that sock I lost under the bed a month ago'. Simon felt his own eyes go wide.

 

“And why is this the first time I'm hearing about it?”

 

Raphael shrugged and mumbled something that sounded like 'hobby'.

 

“Uh, still,” Simon wriggled until he was sitting up, and looked his boyfriend in the eye. “What happened to 'I want to be a Professor of Literature'?”

 

“I do want to be a Professor of Literature, Simon.”

 

“But you also want to get published, right?”

 

“I mean,” Raphael shrugged. “For a long time, yes-”

 

“You should do it,” Simon told him seriously. “Try to get published, I mean.”

 

Raphael blinked at him like he was surprised by this. “You haven't even read it, yet. It could be shit, for all you know.”

 

“Well, then. Will you let me read it?”

 

Raphael was smiling, “If- um. If that's what you want.”

 

Simon had the laptop on his own lap within the next minute, “ _Duh_.”

 

It wasn't 'shit'. It ended up being one of the best things Simon had ever read.

* * *

 

Simon slumped over the cart with a groan and glared at the rows of pasta options.

“Rebecca, just pick something- for the love of god,” he complained.

 

“Can you be patient?” his sister was squinting at a slip of paper in her hands- a shopping list written in a messy hand, “I'm trying to figure out which one mom wants.”

 

Simon made grabby hands for the list; Rebecca handed it over with a grunt, without looking away from the shelves. Simon glanced at the list and up at the pasta, then back at the list. He pointed to a bag of penne, “That one.”

 

“Great,” she dumped the bag into the cart, “now we can finally move on.”

 

“Thank god,”

 

“What's got your panties in a twist today?” Rebecca asked, “You got somewhere better to be?”

 

Simon shrugged as they moved further down the aisle.

 

“I'm just tired,” Simon replied, “Stayed up all night cramming- _again_ \- and I just...” he blinked a few times, “My eyes hurt.”

 

“College is rough,” his sister said, emphatically, as she inspected the selection of canned tomatoes.

 

“Can't wait for it be over,” Simon said on an exhale.

 

“Speaking of which,” Rebecca started casually, inspecting the label of the tin in her hands, “I wanted to talk about your future.”

 

“What about it?”

 

“Well, I mean, your major's considered pretty useless, right?” And she said this with as much love as that statement could manage. It sounded rather sisterly, actually, and Simon found he could appreciate it- mostly.

 

“Says the art history major.”

 

Rebecca snorted, “Touché.”

 

“Look, Becks,” he went on, “I'm not planning on becoming a bum musician, you know. I'll probably end up teaching music theory at a high school, or giving kids guitar lessons, or...” he shrugged, “If I really wanted to 'shoot for the stars', I'd work for a record label.”

 

“Come on, Simon- what's your _dream_? Realistic or not.”

 

“I guess...I always wanted to move to Seattle. Work for one of the indie recording studios there.”

 

“What about Raphael? Is he in the picture?” And, ah, Rebecca had finally gotten to the point.

 

Simon thought about Magnus, how he'd moved to Rhode Island and how it was still working out, for him and Alec. He thought about himself and Raphael in that scenario, and it didn't seem too bad; they'd probably be able to handle long-distance, too. Or, maybe, they wouldn't even _have_ to do the distance thing. It wasn't that unrealistic, the idea of both of them leaving the city.

 

“Well, yeah. He wants to be a writer, and, well...” Simon hesitated, “Writing doesn't really require you to stay in one place. Right?”

 

“So if you asked him to uproot his life for you, he would.” This was more a statement than a question.

 

“I. I don't know.” Simon said, “Look, it's too early to discuss this kind of thing, okay? I still have at least a year of college ahead of me.”

 

“Just saying. It's good to think about this kind of thing.”

 

“Anyway, _why_ are we having this conversation in a grocery store,” Simon asked.

 

“Because, I wanted to talk to you as a concerned older sister, _without_ mom around,” Rebecca replied, with a look that said it all.

 

Simon laughed at this, “Raph's joining us for dinner tonight, by the way.”

 

“Oh, god. That's going to go _so_ well.”

* * *

 

Raphael put his jacket away carefully, made sure the sleeves were straight as he hung it up in its allocated closet space. Simon tossed his own jacket into a corner, less than concerned about where it landed.

 

“Your mom doesn't like me much,” Raphael said. He was frowning (at the steadily growing pile of Simon's crumpled clothing that sat in the corner), as he sat on the bed and tugged off his own shoes.

 

“Yeah, but dinner was good, right?” Simon said evasively, keeping his tone light. “I'm gonna have dreams about that pasta.”

 

“Simon,” Raphael rolled his neck back and rubbed at it as if to work out a kink. “I'm serious. She looks at me, like, I don't know. Like I'm planning on selling your soul.”

 

“If the deal's good enough, you have my permission.”

 

“ _Simon_.”

 

“What do you want me to say?” Simon lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, “My mom would only like you if you were a Jewish accountant. That went to Yale. And owned a yacht.”

 

“Those are...weirdly specific standards.”

 

“Is her opinion really that important to you?”

 

Raphael looked uncomfortable, “I just...”

 

“I know. I get it. You'll grow on her, okay?” Simon placed his hand on Raphael's neck, rubbing at his jaw with his thumb, “You grew on _me_.”

 

Raphael rolled his eyes, “You're so romantic.”

 

“My sucky romancing skills are why you keep me around- admit it.”

 

“Speaking of which,” Raphael's voice went low, in a way that sent a spark of pleasure down Simon's spine, “I recall someone making some very interesting promises, earlier. Something about riding me into the mattress?”

 

“Oh. Yeah,” Simon said, airily, as if his dick wasn't already begging to be free of his jeans.

 

“Come here,” Raphael tugged Simon closer by his belt loops. Simon fell into his lap easily and rubbed at his shoulders.

 

“You're tense,” he observed.

 

“Won't be for long,” Raphael said against his neck- which he was already biting a messy hickey into. Simon hissed and rocked his hips into Raphael's as if it were an involuntary jerk- a conditioned response. Raphael's mouth met his in a searing kiss.

 

“Why,” Simon grunted against Raphael's lips as he struggled with the buttons of his shirt, “is this still- on-” there was a ripping sound, buttons clattered to the hardwood floor, and Raphael bit Simon's lip in retaliation.

 

“That shirt was expensive,” Raphael told him.

 

“Oops,” Simon let the remains of the shirt fall to the floor, ran his hands down Raphael's chest. “Stop buying expensive shirts, then.”

 

“You're an idiot.”

 

“And you need to work on your dirty talk,” Simon yanked his own shirt off and threw it towards his pile, “Because the insults aren't really doing anything for me- oh okay but that definitely is. Keep doing that.” Simon's breathing stuttered as Raphael- who, apparently, wanted to get right to it- unzipped his jeans and palmed his dick.

 

“Less clothing, more sexing,” Simon managed, hands scrabbling at the waistband of Raphael's pants.

 

“How eloquent,” Raphael deadpanned.

 

“Shut up and get out the lube.”

 

Minutes later, Simon's sweat-slicked chest was sticking to the sheets as Raphael worked a third finger into him. From his angle, Simon could see where his jeans landed on the floor, the inside of them crinkled and folded from being carelessly tossed aside. He resolved to focus on this so as to ignore the way his cock was steadily leaking pre-come, begging to be touched.

 

Raphael twisted his fingers _just fucking right_ and Simon cried out, a full-body shudder running through him.

 

“Okay okay come on,” Simon reached back and swatted at him weakly; Raphael grunted in protest when a hand made contact with the side of his head. “Hurry up.”

 

“So impatient,” Raphael said and nipped at the back of his neck (Simon was pretty sure his neck was unreasonably bruised now- but he didn't mind too much). “You still planning on riding me?”

 

“No time,” Simon said, on what was so _not_ a whine, “Just fuck me, c'mon.” He listened to the familiar sounds of Raphael slicking himself up, the snap of the condom.

 

He wanted to cry with relief when Raphael finally replaced his fingers with his cock.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Simon groaned as Raphael started to move- but it was too slow, not deep enough, and he wanted- needed more. “Oh my god, are you trying to torture me?” He tried to move his own hips into Raphael's thrusts.

 

At this, Raphael sat them both up so that Simon was fully seated on his cock. Raphael's thighs pushed Simon's legs open, and Simon realised he had absolutely no leverage in this position.

 

“You're evil,” he gasped out- although he was, admittedly, enjoying the way Raphael was grinding his cock effortlessly deep into his ass. Raphael closed a hand around Simon's dick, and Simon let out a little sob as his hips twitched with it.

 

“What was that?” Raphael murmured, right against his ear. Simon could tell he was smirking, the jerk, as he stroked him off lazily- as his thrusts started to steadily get faster, more desperate.

 

“Ah, Raphael-” Simon threw his head back against his shoulder, a familiar heat twisting in his gut. He swore and came into Raphael's hand, watched as long, messy strings of his cum coated his boyfriend's fingers. Those same fingers slid to Simon's hip and gripped it tight as Raphael pounded his over-sensitive prostate.

 

It didn't take too long for Raphael to ride out his own orgasm, his chest a burning heat pressed against Simon's back. They fell against the mattress together, Raphael's arms coiled around his waist.

 

“So,” Simon turned his head, just so, to meet Raphael's eyes, “Round two?”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“Is that a yes? I'm just gonna need a Gatorade or something, but after that, I'm good to go-”

 

“ _Simon_.”

 

Simon grinned and twisted (rather uncomfortably, but it was worth it) to kiss Raphael's nose. “I love you.”

 

Raphael grunted and pressed his face into Simon's neck. Simon could swear he saw him blushing.

* * *

 

“Yo, Jace, my main man. How's it hanging?”

Simon flopped onto the couch next to Jace, who was in the middle of what looked like a rather mind-taxing game of Assassin's Creed (if the mashing of buttons and intense frowning was anything to go by).

 

Jace paused the game to scratch at the bridge of his nose, “Why are you talking like that,”

 

“Why aren't _you_ \- hey!” Clary had just thrown herself into Simon's lap, with little to no grace. She hadn't been gentle about it, either.

 

“Hello,” she said.

 

“Your butt is crushing me,” Simon whined, leaning his body further back into the couch. Clary just wriggled, nestling her bony ass a little harder into his lap. “Can't you sit on your boyfriend?”

 

“He's concentrating. Did you bring the DVD?”

 

“Of course,” Simon scoffed, “What kind of movie night would it be without _House of Wax_?”

 

“This is what I love about Halloween,” Clary let out a wistful sort of sigh.

 

“Crappy horror films?” Jace asked, and Clary shoved her foot into his side.

 

“They're not 'crappy'.”

 

“They're objectively crappy,” Jace argued, “I read the reviews online.”

 

“Shut up. I'm still angry at you for refusing to buy candy corn.”

 

“Who _eats_ that?”

 

“You guys do realize it's still September,” Alec said, from where he was seated in the armchair. He had his legs curled underneath him and seemed to be hyper-focused on his phone screen.

 

“Doesn't mean it's not Halloween season.” Clary slid off Simon's lap, “You talking to Magnus?”

 

“Yeah,” said Alec, without looking up.

 

“Dude, are you sexting?” Jace complained.

 

“What- no!” Alec jolted, looked up at them with wide eyes. “I'm not- I wouldn't-”

 

“You so would.”

 

“-not _here_.” he ran a hand over his face and muttered something about getting the popcorn. He all but fled the living room.

 

“I'll, uh. Help him.” Simon said.

 

When he got to the kitchen, Alec was still busy on his cell phone. He was smiling to himself.

 

“How's Magnus?” Simon asked, leaning his hip against a counter. Alec glanced up at him and gaped a little; his face was flushed.

 

“He's good. Um.”

 

“Wait, _are_ you-”

 

“No! No, he just. He just texted me to say he loves me,” Alec sounded sheepish, “And he sent a selfie.”

 

“Gonna send one back?”

 

“Maybe later,” Alec tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, and cleared his throat, “I've got popcorn to make.”

 

“Right.”

 

While they watched the bag of popcorn revolve in the microwave, Alec decided to ask Simon about Raphael. Simon wondered when they 'd reached this level of friendship- when they'd become bros that were genuinely invested in one another's relationships. It was actually kind of nice.

 

“Everything's okay,” Simon bit into his lower lip. “Yeah.”

 

“That's _so_ convincing,” Alec said, laconically. “What's up?”

 

“Ah, well, my family's kind of riding on me about my future, y'know,” he tapped his sneakers against the tile in a nervous rhythm, “And I can't stop thinking about how I wanted to move to Seattle. And wondering how Raphael would fit into that.”

 

“Seattle?” Alec glanced away from the microwave, “I think you guys could do it. Long distance isn't as hard as people make it out to be.”

 

“Yeah, no, clearly. You and Magnus are thriving, dude.”

 

Alec was blushing again, “What's worrying you so much?”

 

“Do you think it- would it be unreasonable of me to ask him to...you know. Move with me?”

 

“Depends. For the most part, I don't think so.” Alec said, “But you've got years to think about this. Right?”

 

“I guess. But how should I bring it up with him?”

 

Alec blinked rapidly, “Sorry, I'm just processing- you're asking _me_ for advice.” he shook his head, “I hope you realize I'm just as clueless as you. If not more so.”

 

“Aw, c'mon dude. Give yourself more credit.”

 

Alec shrugged helplessly, “You just need to be honest. And when something's bothering you, you need to talk about it as soon as possible. That's- that's really the best advice I have.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks,” Simon worried at the bracelet around his wrist.

 

Alec patted him on the shoulder, “C'mon. Let's go watch your nerdy movie.”

* * *

 

When he got home (which, apparently, was what Simon thought of Raphael's place, now. _Home_ ), Raphael was already asleep.

His boyfriend had passed out on the couch, laptop still alive and whirring in his lap. Simon picked it up gingerly and set it on the coffee table, but not before catching sight of what was on the screen:

 

_'Chapter 12_

 

_I wonder if he knows._

_Am I doing enough? Does he realize how much I need him- how he's practically the life-force running through my veins at this point- as cheesy as that sounds? God, that's what he's reduced me to. A cheesy romantic- though, only on paper, it would seem._

_Does he know? Does he know that in a heartbeat, I'd-'_

 

Simon's chest was so tight, his breath hitched when he pressed a kiss to Raphael's forehead.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
